Chapter 40 Now

Seventeenth Precinct. How many I direct your call?"

"Hello. I'd like to speak to Detective Green, please."

It's my second call in two days, but it's been three since I went to speak to him. And nothing. No calls. No update. Definitely no restraining order.

"Detective Green isn't in today. Is there anyone else who can help you?"

I sigh. "I don't think so."

"Would you like to leave a message on his voicemail?"

"Um, sure. Thank you."

The woman connects me. Detective Green says something about hanging up and calling 911 for an emergency, and then there's a long, flat beep. Normally I'd organize my thoughts before I left someone a voicemail, but I don't bother to try now. I already know it's not possible to sound calm and collected, and I'm past the point of caring.

"Hi, Detective Green. It's Meredith McCall. I was hoping to get an update on the restraining order, because, well… I need to go to work today. I've canceled my patients the last two days, but I can't keep doing that. My patients need me. And I'm out of milk." And wine, though I don't say that. "Anyway, I can't stay locked up in my apartment, so I'm going to have to go out. But quite frankly, the thought terrifies me. I mean, why are they doing this to me? What do they want?" I pace through my apartment as I ramble. When my eyes catch on the shiny new locks I had a locksmith add to my front door yesterday, I swallow. "If you could please call me when you get this message, I'd appreciate it. Thank you."

I swipe my phone off and see a new text has arrived from Sarah.

I want to type back Cancel all patients until further notice. But I won't. I need my practice as much as it needs me. Plus, the walls of this apartment are closing in around me. So instead I type back that I'll be at the office by eight and go about trying to cover some of the dark circles under my eyes. It's a futile effort, of course. Because raccoon rings are only half the problem. I've also lost weight. More than I realized. And I haven't seen sunlight in a while. So my eyes are sunken into a pale, hollow face that looks sick. Which I suppose I am.

I leave my apartment like a criminal on the run—checking through the peephole before opening the three locks I now have on my door, looking both ways on the street before darting to the waiting Uber. Even when I'm safely inside the car, I don't feel safe. My eyes flit around the streets looking for them. For Gabriel. For Rebecca.

When I walk into the office, Sarah's face falls.

"Oh, Mer. You don't look good."

"I haven't slept so well."

"Or at all…" She shakes her head and comes around her desk. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe you should wait until you hear from the detective before trying to come back to work."

I force a smile. "I'm fine. Really. It'll be good to be busy today."

Sarah doesn't even get a chance to call me out on the lie. She doesn't have to. I prove I'm full of crap when the office door opens and I jump.

My heart is in my throat, and it's only Mrs. Radcliff. My first patient. I nod good morning and slink into my office, where I find a large cup of chamomile tea and a bagel waiting on my desk. Thank the Lord for Sarah. She also stalls my first appointment a few minutes, which I'm certain is to give me a chance to collect myself, which I badly need.

My first session starts off rocky. I have a hard time focusing at first, but eventually I ease into it and start to settle. By the afternoon, I'm feeling a bit like myself again. A healthy lunch helped. I stop jumping every time my phone buzzes. When my last session of the day is finished, I close the door behind the patient and Sarah smiles.

"You did it."

"Thanks to you. I wouldn't have been able to muddle through this last week without you, Sarah."

She waves me off. "Eh. That's not true. You're tough as nails, lady."

I motion to the door. "Why don't you get out of here? I think I'm going to stay for a while and write up my patient notes."

"No, it's fine. I can stay until you're ready to go."

Today has given me courage, and I've already leaned on my assistant enough. "No, I insist. Go home. I'm good on my own."

She hesitates. "Are you sure?"

I smile. "Yeah, I am. I need to do this."

Sarah studies my face for a moment before nodding. "Okay. But lock up behind me."

"I will."

And I do. I lock both doors—the outer and the interior one to my office. I throw myself into typing up my notes for the day, and before I know it, more than an hour and a half has gone by, and I only have one more patient to write up.

But then I hear a knock.

And not the outer door to my office suite, which I locked.

My interior one.

Someone is inside.

It's so faint I'm talking myself into believing I've imagined it.

Until it happens a second time.

"I know you're in there, Dr. McCall."

Rebecca.

Oh God!

I stop breathing and don't move a muscle.

How did she get in? Did Sarah lock the outer office when she left and I unlocked it, thinking I was doing the opposite? Or did Rebecca break in? And oh God. That time my door was open at my apartment—was that her, too?

The room is so quiet it makes me wish the angry clock was back.

Maybe she'll go away.

If I stay quiet, maybe she'll go away.

The door handle jiggles.

"I just want to talk, Dr. McCall."

I reach for my cell phone and dial a nine and a one, but my hand is shaking so badly I drop the damn thing on my desk before I can hit the last number. It bangs loudly. I can't pretend I'm not here anymore.

"Go away!" I yell. "I'm calling the police."

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to tell you the whole story, fill in all the missing pieces. About Gabriel." She pauses. "And Ellen. And little Rose. You're still my doctor, and I trust you."

Those names—Gabriel. Ellen. Rose. They hang in the air, floating like the apple on the tree in front of Eve. I know it's calculated. Rebecca's trying to lure me in, just like she's done since the beginning with her stories that would feel so relatable to me—because I was treating the man she was talking about, and she knew it.

Yet I find myself walking toward the door. But I don't open it. "Say whatever you want to say and leave."

There's a long stretch of silence before she speaks again. I push my ear against the door so I won't miss a word.

"That night—the night his wife died—she was going to leave him. After I told Ellen about Gabriel and me, how in love we were, she left. His wife left with their daughter. I followed them for blocks. She had a bag with her. She called someone and told them that she was really leaving him this time. That he'd had another affair and she was done. She was angry, so, so angry. But then he called. Gabriel. And she started to cry. I could hear him on speakerphone apologizing and feeding Ellen all of these lies about how much he loved her and how sorry he was and how the affair meant nothing. He was going to do everything in his power to get her back. And I couldn't have that. Gabriel loves me. He just felt obligated to her."

Rebecca is quiet again, but she's right on the other side of the door now, so I can hear her breathing. Her voice is lower when she finally speaks again. "Gabriel needed to be free. Ellen was weak and would've gone back to him. So when she stopped at the light, and I saw a car swerving all over the road… I pushed her. I didn't mean to hurt her daughter. I didn't see that she was holding her hand and would drag her in front of the car, too."

My throat tightens, and my eyes bulge from my head.

I should finish calling 911, barricade my desk in front of the door until they arrive to save me. But instead, I find myself doing the exact opposite. I reach for the doorknob and pull open the door. I need to see this woman's face. I'm too shocked to speak. Rebecca is looking down at the floor, so I just wait. For what, I have no idea.

When she eventually raises her head, the corners of her mouth curl up and her eyes light with mirth. A chill races through my body. This woman has just admitted to murdering a woman and a small child and she's smiling. I've underestimated how deranged she is. She raises her index finger to her lips in the universal quiet sign.

"Remember, we have doctor-patient confidentiality, Dr. McCall."

She turns and walks out of my office.